


Smooth Driving

by PuppetMaster55



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, Lance failed out of getting into the Galaxy Garrison, Lance is a literal cargo truck driver, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Shiro is a smooth flirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/pseuds/PuppetMaster55
Summary: Lance didn'tknowthat his maneuver would crash the simulator that badly, okay? Hedidn't know.So now he's failed to get into the Galaxy Garrison, and lives in an old weather station far outside of the nearby town. He wishes he could get a plane ticket back home, but he calls as often as he can to let his family know what's up. He even managed to get a job for the local market as their cargo driver. It's not great pay, but its enough of a living.And then Takashi "please call me Shiro" Shirogane returns from the dead, along with three teens who broke him out of the crash site. And Shiro's first instinct upon meeting Lance is to be the smoothest flirt that Lance has ever met.





	Smooth Driving

**Author's Note:**

> Veronica is not a part of the Galaxy Garrison, since I started this WAY back when there was only the first season.

Lance was driving back to his home when the night sky lit up with the largest meteor he'd ever seen. Pulling over, Lance leaned out the window, squinting at the red asteroid as it sped through the sky. It traveled low, and Lance watched it zoom past overhead, watched as it crashed in the distance.

Staring up the engine, Lance shrugged. The thing had crashed near the Galaxy Garrison, and he had groceries to put away. Between the two, he preferred to put away his perishables than get thrown into lockup for the night.

Besides, why would a cargo truck driver like himself even be interested in seeing a big rock that crashed from space? It wasn't like he had even gotten into the Garrison.

...even if a space rock sounded super cool.

But he had eggs. And milk. Perishable foods that were more important than whatever super cool space rock made it to Earth's surface.

* * *

 

Lance had been set to attend the Galaxy Garrison at fifteen, had left his family behind with no intention of returning for a long time (which, by the standards of the Garrison, meant summer break, which the Galaxy Garrison would foot the bill for so Lance could actually afford to return home). He aced the written test, and was all set to ace the practical.

And then he crashed the simulator so badly they had to shut it down and reprogram it.

He was given the boot, sent with his little belongings out to the nearest town almost twenty miles out and told to never set foot within a mile of the Garrison. Unable to pay for a return trip, without anything so much as bus fare, Lance had walked into the nearest diner and asked if there was anyone looking to hire.

As it turned out, the local market needed a new truck driver, their old one having quit. The pay was decent, and for nearly two months he lived in the truck as he drove out to retrieve the new stock shipments. Once he had built up enough money, Lance had bought an old weather station and the oldest car he'd ever had the displeasure of seeing—an ancient Ford truck that wasn't fully electric and required almost constant maintenance. But the weather station was a home and the truck was a vehicle, so Lance couldn't complain.

His missed his family pretty badly, but he couldn't complain. He had known the risks, however small they had been, and now he had to live through them. He tried to call them several times, and while he did the best he could to explain things, they were understanding. Heartbreakingly so.

Lance still sent postcards every week, so they knew he was doing okay and that he missed and loved them all to pieces.

His life was as quiet as could be, which was why he had absolutely no idea why, when he finally made it back home, there was a Garrison truck sitting outside his house.

Frowning, Lance glanced at his house, noticing that the door was closed, but the lights on. Shutting off the engine, Lance got out, staring into the windows with the hope of seeing whoever was in there. They couldn't have been officials working at the Garrison, since those guys were such sticklers for the rules that they would rather wait outside than break into his home. Which meant...

“Hey!” Lance yelled, hoping that his voice carried enough. “You kids better not be smoking in my house! Or eating all my food!”

Kids, he called the intruders, as if he wasn't one himself.

The whole situation was ridiculous, down to the fact that Lance had been taught and was prepared for being inside his home when it was broken into, not returning in the middle of whoever these teens were doing whatever they were doing.

At the very least, the lack of hearing things breaking was a good sign. They weren't here to rob him.

“And you better put some clothes on!” Lance added, realizing that he had a perfectly decent couch and mattress both inside, and if they were teens sneaking out there were only a small number of reasons to hide out someplace like where Lance lived. “I don't want to come in and find a bunch of kids with nothing but my own blankets to cover them.”

Not that he wanted to see anyone naked, anyway. At least, not anyone that didn't want him to see them naked.

Lance clomped on the porch as loudly as he could, and stared at the window and through the crack in the door—not fully closed, not that it ever really could, Lance was pretty sure it was warped or jammed or something like that—with the flattest, most unimpressed expression he could muster.

“Yeah, turn off the lights.” Lance snorted. “Because that works in hiding everything. Look, just. Call me when you're wearing clothes? And don't think about escaping, I'm standing outside the only way out of there.”

“That's a fire hazard,” someone—a guy, probably Lance's own age—said, his voice drifting loudly through the door. Someone shushed him, and Lance heard the faint thump of... something. “Also, we're not naked. But we did throw a blanket over our, uh, friend.”

“Hunk!” Another guys voice hissed, and another thump, with the first guy—Hunk, Lance was delighted to have a name—letting out a pained yelp.

“I'm coming in!” Lance fumbled with the groceries, gently pushing at the door. Then he shoved at the door, using every bit of weight he could produce on his hips to slam the door open. “There we go. Alright, you kids. I'm leaving the door open but you better turn on the light. I'm not wandering around in the dark tripping over all of you because you don't have the sense to _hide_.”

The light clicked on, and Lance was greeted with the sight of three teenagers about his age. One was a little taller than him, heavyset and unfairly beautiful and glancing at him sheepishly. Another was dark-haired and pale and stood about as tall as Lance, glowering at him like he'd personally killed the guy's dog or something equally unforgivable. The third was the smallest, a full head shorter than Lance with brown hair and glasses and, somehow, even paler skin. Two and Three stood protectively over the couch, where someone else was laid up. Lance stared them all down.

“So, who's your friend?” Lance nodded at the person on the couch. Two growled, reaching for a knife at his hip, and Lance immediately guessed that this guy wasn't Hunk. “Alright, I'll back off. I'm Lance. I live here. Now, whichever one of you is Hunk please come help? I'm losing balance and I don't want the eggs to get crushed.”

Unfairly Beautiful shuffled along, taking some of Lance's groceries and helping to put it all away. Hunk smiled, hesitantly introducing himself while continuing to glance at the figure on Lance's couch. The other two were quickly introduced as Keith and Pidge, and all three of them stood firmly between Lance and the couch, stopping him from seeing the person there any clearly.

“Alright,” Lance finally said, crossing his arms. “Now can someone explain why you broke into my house? And who that person you're obviously hiding from me is?”

“We don't have to explain anything,” Keith bit out, before the guy on the couch groaned, moving around and sitting up. Keith just as quickly forgot about Lance, focusing on the other guy. “Shiro! You're okay.”

“Shiro?” Lance peered over Pidge's head, before his eyes widened. “Holy crow. You're Takashi Shirogane!” Lance laughed, slapping Hunk on the forearm. “This guy's my hero! I almost got into the Galaxy Garrison because of him.”

“You what?” Hunk squinted at Lance. “Wait. You look familiar.”

Lance's grin slipped, and he turned away. “I don't want to talk about it. So! You, Takashi Shirogane—”

“Please, call me Shiro.” Takashi– Shiro groaned, rubbing at his head. He squinted up at Lance, like he was trying to recognize Lance but couldn't. “Who are you?”

“I'm Lance.” Lance stuck out his hand, because manners were everything when being introduced to the very guy that inspired Lance to move away from his family and end up living in a shack in the desert.

Not that the shack was part of his plan, but Lance was flexible.

Flexible enough, even, to accept that Shiro wasn't dead, had a white forelock now, a scar on his face, and a robot arm.

Shiro looked at Lance's arm, while Keith, Pidge, and Hunk all stared Lance down, before smiling.

“It's nice to meet you, Lance.” Shiro took Lance's hand, giving him a firm shake. Shiro's smile dropped, and he looked around the room, at everyone crowded around him. “Uh, can I get some room to stand?”

“Are you feeling up to it?” Keith asked.

“Yeah, you were pretty out of it when we rescued you.” Hunk chuckled. “By the way, I'm Hunk. And the other one is Pidge. We also rescued you. Except for Lance. He wasn't there.”

“I don't even know where there is,” Lance groaned, trying to focus on anything more than the fact that Shiro was still holding his hand.

“The crashed spaceship.” Hunk blinked, before his eyes widened. “The crashed– you! You're the guy that was paraded around the whole Galaxy Garrison. You're a legend!”

“Oh no.” Lance's enthusiasm deflated like a popped balloon.

“What did he do?” Pidge snorted. “He can't have hacked into Iverson's personal computer.”

“I... crashed the simulator so bad they had to do a hard reset of the software.” Lance winced. At Pidge's shocked stare he waved his hands around, trying to backtrack. “I don't test well! I thought I could do something but apparently the simulator couldn't handle it and it crashed.”

“That was _you_?” Shiro snorted, before using his hand to muffle his laughter. “I thought that was a techie. Half the staff wouldn't stop crying for three months straight about that.”

“I _don't test well_!” Lance insisted, hoping against hope that he could regain any coolness cred before Shiro. In the greatest blessing ever to Lance, however, Shiro kept laughing.

“I get it. I didn't test all that well either, at first.” Shiro gave Lance a kind smile as he got to his feet. “What you did kept me laughing halfway to Kerberos.”

“O-oh.” Lance didn't know how to deal with that, and he was pretty sure that the kind of stare that Shiro was giving him was more than simple friendship, which, Lance was not unopposed to it, just unfamiliar. “I'm glad I could brighten your day. Even if it did sink my entire future.”

“What is happening?” Hunk badly whispered to Keith, who shook his head.

“I saved video of your sim run. Up until the crash, you did some pretty impressive maneuvers.” Shiro gave Lance a grin. “I'd love to see you fly again sometime.”

“Well.” Lance stumbled, trying to find a response better than blushing. He failed. “Maybe you could? I don't know, it just seems that since you're back from the dead and all, then maybe my career as a pilot isn't as dead as I thought it was.”

“Maybe a lot of things are more than you thought.” Lance's throat went dry at the once-over Shiro gave him. “I could give you some hands-on experience. One-on-one time, if you're open to it.”

“Oh no.” Keith groaned. “He came back _smooth_.”

“I am! Very open.” Lance really hoped his voice didn't squeak too badly.

“End us.” Keith nudged Hunk. “You're the strongest of us all, with those forearms. Just... crush my head. End this suffering.”

“How about we focus on other stuff.” Pidge cut between Lance and Shiro. “Like the aliens? How about that. Or, you know, _what happened to your crew_?”

“Aliens?” Lance looked around the room, before settling on Shiro. “Aliens are real?”

“They... they are.” Shiro nodded. He winced. “And I don't remember. It's like there's this block. I remember... I remember being on Kerberos, and then there was this ship, and it pulled us up, and...”

Shiro winced, hard, pressing a hand to his head. Lance moved forward, somehow beating out Keith.

“Shiro, don't try to force it.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Lance shot Keith a mild glare. He grabbed at Shiro's arm, gently lowering it from where he was trying to grind his heel into his forehead. “Keith's right. If trying to remember hurts you, then maybe don't try.”

“But you _do_ remember aliens?” Pidge asked, staring at him intently. “And they abducted all of you?”

“I– yeah.” Shiro nodded. “I don't remember what happened to Commander Holt, or Matt.”

“We could look into the cave?” Keith offered. “That's how I knew that something was going to happen tonight. There were star charts carved there that show tonight's sky. If it knew that Shiro was coming tonight, then maybe it could tell us something else?”

“Like those robot lion stuff?” Hunk glanced from Keith to Shiro. “Are the aliens robot lions?”

“No.” Shiro shook his head, but he looked uncertain. “At least... I don't think so?”

“Maybe the robot lion is Voltron?” Pidge hummed, and Shiro sucked in a breath.

“Voltron... I remember that name.” Shiro's brow furrowed, both in thought and in pain. “But... I _can't remember_.”

“Hold the phone.” Lance held up his hands, staring at everyone in confusion. “What's happening here? Are we going after the aliens?”

“Yes.” Keith nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren't the aliens going to come after us, though?” Hunk looked around nervously. “Sorry Shiro, but, you did say a lot about how they're coming to destroy us all.”

“If they were coming they'd be here already.” Lance shrugged. “So... we're doing this? But maybe in the light of day?”

“We can't wait that long! Shiro obviously escaped and whoever these aliens are they can't be far behind.” Keith scoffed.

“What is this _we_ you speak of?” Pidge asked, giving Lance an unimpressed stare. “You're not a part of this.”

“I could be!” Lance protested. He gestured widely, at his home. “And you hid in my house! That makes me a part of this.”

“I don't think this is a house.” Keith's mutter was loud enough to catch Lance's ear, but he had more important things to cover.

“Besides, it's the middle of the night. Even if the aliens are coming, we can't do anything about it when everything gets super cold.” Lance gestured at the window. “In case you missed it, we live in a desert. The desert gets cold at night.”

“Not that cold.” Pidge made a face.

“Actually I agree with Lance.” Shiro gave Lance a soft smile. “It's been a long day for everyone, and I'm still feeling the sedatives. We'll catch a couple hours of sleep and go to these caves in the morning.”

“Ha! Thank you, Shiro.” Lance gestured at the couch. Everyone had gone quiet, clearly in agreement—and not wanting to argue with Shiro, who still looked like he needed the extra sleep. “Someone can take the couch, the rest of us are left to whichever patch of floor you pick. I hoard blankets, so whoever needs some I have a lot.”

Lance moved to the front door, giving it a hard shove as closed as it could get, then kicked the concrete block in front of it As soon as that was done, Lance went into his bedroom, formerly the office of the weather station, and dug out as many of his extra blankets as he could carry.

“Thank you.” Shiro took some blankets, laying them out beside the couch before Lance intervened.

“Whoa, not you! I'm giving up my bed to you. No arguments.”

Shiro looked like he wanted to protest, but with how Keith, Pidge, and Hunk all joined in on Lance's firm glare, he relented. “Fine. But you're sharing the bed. I don't want to put you out like that.”

Lance blinked, before turning a vibrant red. Keith groaned, while Hunk gaped, and Pidge slapped their hand against their face.

“ _Way_ too smooth.” The words came out of Keith's groaning, but failed to sink into Lance's ears.

“It's only fair,” Shiro added, and Lance couldn't bring himself to disagree in the face of sharing a bed with _Takashi Shirogane_. The Lance of two years ago would be crying in joy if he was sent forward in time to that exact moment. The Lance of the present was trying hard not to cry in joy, either. “This is your home, so you shouldn't be removed from your bed just because of me.”

Lance squeaked, and went through the motions of preparing for bed. It wasn't until he was laying in bed, with Shiro quickly falling asleep, one of Shiro's arms thrown over him and practically hugging him close, did it sink in that Shiro had flirted his way into sharing a bed with Lance.

The man was _far too smooth_.

Shiro shifted in his sleep, hugging Lance close, and Lance couldn't find it in himself to complain.

Besides, if the world was going to end by alien invasion soon, who better to spend one last night with than Takashi Shirogane?

**Author's Note:**

> Will I continue this? Probably not. 
> 
> The premise is that everything goes according to canon, only now Lance didn't make it into flight school. I have this whole thing jotted down where later Lance realizes which cave Keith is talking about, and ends up tagging along because, well, he's got very obvious interest in Shiro.


End file.
